


Push

by st_ivalice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Clarus is getting old, Cor is a little shit, Gen, Iris is a prodigy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_ivalice/pseuds/st_ivalice
Summary: Training with Iris always felt different than with Gladio.





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> Amicitia Week Day 3
> 
> Prompt: Dad's Hugs/Gladio and Iris take care of Clarus

He swore he could hear Cor’s laugh even though it was just a text message.

>>So what happened?

He was getting _old_ is what happened. Adjusting the heat pack on his lower back, Clarus sent a simple explanation.

>>Training with Iris.

Cor’s reply was so sassy.

>>Can’t keep up anymore, old man?

Clarus rolled his eyes. He could keep up, he’d just pushed himself too hard. He was having too much fun is what the problem was.

>>Can _you?_

>>Sure I can. I knew someone like her once.

Clarus was almost worried Cor was right. Because Cor could keep up with Iris like no one else could. At thirteen, she hadn’t favored any weapons, but her hand to hand combat and athleticism came so easy to her, it made him wonder if she was a kinesthetic prodigy like Cor. At the same time, she possessed no trace of that headstrong brazen streak that Cor did. Despite no push to join the Crownsguard yet, not seriously, at least, she still took to the duty of their family and training with him and Gladio enthusiastically.

And though he was loathe to admit it, training with Iris always felt different than with Gladio. With Gladio, there was a gravitas as he passed the mantle to him, and Gladio, too, took to training with an intensity and maturity that was both required and desired.

But Iris, she was his joy. From the beginning that was always her role. If Gladio was his pride, then surely she was his joy in all things, his heir that he could raise away from the grip of the Raven and the duties of the throne. Of course, there remained the tradition of their House, unspoken but known; an heir in blood and in blade. It remained up to each generation how they chose to practice that but it was how their line and legacy had lasted as long as the Kings of Lucis.

His daughter’s laugh and smile gave him a different reason to his life, a purpose that went beyond their name and station, and he knew it would be the same for Gladio.

And today, her laugh had reminded him of youth. The way she goaded and teased him was not unlike himself when he was younger; the way she flipped and tumbled as easily as second nature was not unlike Cor’s either. After their stretches and warm ups, she had grinned and suggested another competition. Gladio had both of them beat with pushups, and he was still the reigning champion in their house for longest handstand, beating both his children. She was feeling competitive, and unwisely he let her choose what would be next.

“Handsprings, Daddy,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Ten consecutively. No pauses.” And so all three of them had pushed themselves, trying to get the most. Gladio folded on his fifth one, to no one’s surprise. After he started bulking up he was getting lazy with his flexibility. Clarus made it to eight and stopped after the hitch in his side. Iris completed twelve, and he knew she was showing off, as she should, because he had watched her hustle all these months to perfect them.

They finished their workout with some light sparring—or planned to. Gladio was working with her on her throws, her low center of gravity well to her advantage. Surprisingly, it was Gladio’s form that needed some work and Clarus switched out, but it was Iris and her physical affinity that had slammed him right on his back.

The wind was knocked right out of him and both his children looked down at him, eyes wide and concerned.

He replied to Cor.

>>So can you watch him or what?

The way he and Cor spoke about Regis’ safety reverted back to their young days often enough, when it was “babysitting” and their Prince grew annoyed. Mostly, he just wanted Cor to make sure Regis didn’t make his way down here and throw him a pity party. Then laugh his ass off at how ridiculous he looked lying in bed.

>Maybe I need to babysit _you_ , Clare.

>>No thanks.

>>Don’t need your smarmy ass here.

There was a long pause between texts and Clarus was sure Cor was laughing.

>>Alright then. Let me know if you need anything.

>>Don’t think for a second this means I can’t still kick your ass, Cor.

>>Show me.

>>Oh wait, after your back heals up.

Clarus shook his head, looking at his phone. “That little shit.”

There was a timid knock on his door and Iris poked her head through. “Hey Daddy,” she said, unsure.

“Hey sweetheart, what’s up?”

“Gladdy and I made you a sandwich. Your favorite.”

As if on cue his stomach rumbled. “Oh! Bring it in. Thanks. I’m starving.” And also in pain, but he couldn’t tell her that, not after she apologized five times already and looked like she was about to again.

She walked in carrying a dish with a garula roast sandwich with barbecue chips on the side.

“You even cut the pickles nice and thick.”

A hint of a smile appeared on her worried face. “Just how you like it,” she said, handing it to him.

When he twisted to hold the plate, his back spasmed and he grunted in pain.

“I’m fine,” he gritted, to reassure her, but was failing miserably. Damn, he thought he could bounce back faster than this. Maybe he finally had to admit what he’d been denying.

It was a struggle to sit up properly, but he managed. He tapped the edge of the bed for her to sit down. “Want some chips?”

Iris nodded and sat to place the dish on his lap, taking a chip after she was sure he could hold it.

There was a silence as they chewed chips noisily and he finally said, “Please don’t feel bad about earlier.”

“But I threw you too hard.”

“And that’s perfectly fine.” He had this same conversation with Gladio, much early on because of his strength, but self-discipline and restraint was the first thing he instilled in both of them. Iris was just like her brother though, too hard on herself, believing she should already possess at thirteen what most adults took their lifetime to learn. But even though his children were being raised to lead Kingdoms and noble Houses, their development and childhood was just as important to him.

He smiled again to reassure her. “I’m so proud of you! You pick things up so quickly. You know there’s nothing wrongwith learning your limits. That’s how we learn to set them and control them. Come here," he said, pulling her in for a hug.

Her cheek smushed into his shoulder. “You’re not mad?”

“Never, my darling,” he said, leaning to kiss her head, and this time the pain was worth it if it eased his daughter’s mind. “Much as I hate to say it, I’m getting old.”

“Getting old’s not so bad,” Gladio said, appearing in the doorway. He was sure his son meant it to reassure him, but it was also a foreign concept in this house, to die of old age than by the sword.

Even his own mother, as great a legacy she left, had struggled with her purpose after Mors had died, putting her focus into her grandchildren and the next generation of the Shield.

“No,” he said, even as he knew if he had the reward of such, it would be without Regis. "It's not."

Gladio sensed his thoughts and instead held up a medicine bottle to change the subject. “Also, I found ‘em,” he said, rattling the bottle. “Not expired yet, but these should hold you over until you see the doctor.”

“Thanks.”

His son sat on the other side of the bed and gave him two pills of muscle relaxant. “I know you’re still hurting, but you should have _seen_ her, dad. _Textbook_. Her nintey-five to your two hundred?”

They both looked at Iris and she smiled sheepishly.

“Own it, sis. You did what most Crownsguard are afraid to ever do.”

Clarus laughed. “Except Cor.”

“Yep, except him. Maybe you could show him what dad taught you today when he takes over training for the next week.”

“A _week?”_

Both his children gave him a pitying look.

“Yeah, daddy,” Iris said. “You need to heal. Isn’t that what you’re always telling us when we push ourselves too far?”

Sighing, Clarus rested his head back on his pillow, his own words coming back to bite him in the ass, even if it was true.

Gladio grinned. “Don’t worry, dad. We promise to give Cor the hardest time possible.”

“That’s more like it.”


End file.
